All The Matters
by WickClace
Summary: These lonely nights leave the thoughts of Wendy in their wake. Short One-Shot of Finns Lonely nights without the one he loves beside another, instead of him.


Finn felt as if he was unraveling at the seams. The pain that radiated throughout his chest cavity felt vibrant with a life of its own and shot in every direction. He had felt this pain every night since her wedding to - well, not him.

He wouldn't dare say her name. He wouldn't dare think it.

Still, the pain that raddled through him was a blessing when compared to the pain he had felt watching her bond herself to another. Punches were his liberator - given and received.

Why hadn't she wanted him? Why hadn't she taken what she could get? The thoughts spiraled in his mind. They were wired on the thoughts of her. The ones, try as he might, he couldn't rid. Couldn't rid the sweet honeysuckle smell of her lightly bronzed skin. Couldn't rid the image of tendrils of homogony curls falling into her face, coving those dark, endless round eyes that could melt him with a simple glance. Couldn't rid the feeling of her head lie on the center of his chest, their naked skin sticking together as her fingers drew aimless circles around his belly.

He remembered his heart had never raced faster against his chest, somewhere in his mind distinctively noticing her breasts were pressed against him and he loved it in the least sexual way a man could. He had known in that moment he would have done anything for that woman. Sailed the seven seas, protect her with his own life - something he had been raised to do even before she had cast him under her spell and claimed his heart, before he was hers completely.

She was so warm and kind and gently, and he had wondered how those traits could coincide with her strength and bravery and fearlessness.

No, the pain reminded him as he struggled once again to push those thoughts away. He did not deserve to entertain the thought of her in any form. But even Finn himself knew that was the lowest lie of all. No one deserved more than he to think of their moments together. Not Lo - her husband, who had been ready to sell her out at the start for his own skin. Not her, who had pushed him away. That was unfair, he had pushed her away, tried to get her to not want him for the sake of the kingdom, but he had forgotten long ago the sake of himself.

When you grow doing everything in your life for the better of everybody else, sometimes you forget that you have every right to the happiness they do.

Surely, he reminded himself, she could have done something had she wanted to be with him as much as he her.

But in the end, he had gotten what he strived for, but never wanted.

Rolling over, Finn's body shifted into the spot of his bed that should have contained her, but was void. The sheets were cool from the winter breeze that came through his room window. He could hear his mother and father arguing through the dead of night, the name Elora piercing the air with his mothers hatred. Was this how his father had felt when he had come to the realization that he would never be with the one he truly loved?

He could see the pain seeping from his father's eyes when he had looked at Elora before her passing, the pleading he shot her way when she wasn't looking. Was that how he was destined to feel? Was he destined to follow in his fathers footsteps? Yes. He had to this point. He would marry a woman he loved, like his father, but it wouldn't be as true and pure as the love he felt bubble through his body from the first moment he held her at that ridiculous school dance.

The heard the voices outside his room die down before the clicking of shoes against hardwood sounded. Straight white teeth clenched down on his full bottom lip so hard he could taste the iron of his blood. Still felt better than the thought of her. What he would give to have the thoughts of her beat out of him again. Not a reliable method, as sometimes the thoughts still found a way to creep in, but the best method nonetheless.

A knock sounded at the door, his mother, he assumed from the heel clicking. He didn't want her knowing he was awake at this late hour when he had to see them in the wee hours of the morning.

"Just slide it under his door, he'll find it in the morning." said his father, his voice clipped. "Boy's had enough to deal with, he doesn't need you staring at him while he read it. He knows how you fell about her." Finn's mother said nother back. Then more clicking, fading into the distance.

Oh he knew very well what his mother had thought of her. Anyone could have by the way her glare sliced through everyone in the royal family.

He forced his heavy lids to part reluctantly. The light of the moon shot into his eyes and he had to wait for them to adjust. Like most houses of the lowly trackers his room had nothing but a bed and dresser kiddy cornered across the room that was filled with his clothes and uniform and topped with old school books on Changelings and Royal Family. The room's so small it only take three steps to reach his door and bend down the get the paper.

A war is raging within him. Ignore her and everything that has to do with the royal family whenever possible, or let his curiosity get the better of him. The curiosity wins this round. The paper feels heavy, holding him in place and he feels his muscles tense in anticipation. It's about the baby, he notes, a baby that would not be theirs and made of their love for one another, but for her love of another man. A constant reminder of what he could have had had he been enough for her.

His heart contrasted in his chest as the babies name burned brighter than anything he had ever before seen. His name. Finn was traced in an elegant cursive in the center of the page, so big it felt like he would fall into it and be swallowed whole. She named her unborn child after him. What did that mean? Or was it purely coincidental? That, he doubted.

Maybe he was overreacting, but something in the pit of his gut came to life knowing somehow he was still an important part of her. Important enough to earn the name of the unborn prince. That those dark entrapment of eyes must wonder off in the thought of him. It wasn't enough to make huge assumptions off, and he was being more ridiculous than he had been before, but he couldn't help it.

It gave him hope, and he wanted to hold onto that.

His heart doubled in speed as his pointer finger grazed over her name on the rough brown paper, ignoring the king's name beside his queen's. Her's.

"I love you, Wendy." He whispered into the wind, "I love you." hoping it travels its way to her heart.


End file.
